Chaussettes
by Frohike
Summary: Mulder and Scully ponder one of life's mysteries.


Title: Chaussettes  
Author: Frohike  
Email: [frohike51@aol.com][1]  
Rating: PG  
Category: Humor  
Distribution: Anywhere you want. Just keep my name and email addy intact and drop me a line to let me know where you want to put it.  
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are properties of 1013, FOX, etc. They're not mine, never will be and I make no such claim on them. Every so often, they speak to me, so I let them out to have a little fun. For those of you who just have to know what the title means, break out your English to French dictionary and look it up for yourself. *g* Thanks to Ravenwald for confirming the definition of this word for me. Mimsy, there's a line in here, especially for you, as it is something you, and only you, will fully appreciate.   
Spoilers: Hahahahahahaha. Or in layman's terms…no. 

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8:37 PM  
SleepInn Motel 

Scully slammed the door and tossed her briefcase on the table. She heard Mulder open the adjoining door to their rooms, but ignored him, as she dropped on the bed with a huff. She was thoroughly pissed and wanted him to get the message loud and clear.

Mulder stood in the doorway, wanting to enter, but wise enough to know that she would probably shoot him, if he did. Thoroughly pissed, oh yes, the message was coming through in flashing red neon. Well, flashing grey neon, being red/green color-blind, Mulder couldn't actually see red, but he was familiar with the feeling the color evoked, and this, my friend, was a red of epic proportions. He took a deep breath. "Scully?"

Looking up slowly, Scully fixed him with one of her patented ScullyLooks. Not the infamous, 'yeah-right' look, but the 'I-have-a-gun-and-I-know-how-to-use-it' look. 

Ignoring the fact that his testicles were now beating a hasty retreat toward his liver, Mulder continued. "Scully, I'm sorry." He wanted to say more, but she cut him off.

"Sorry? You're 'sorry', Mulder," she said. "Two days, you said. No, you promised," she emphasized, pointing a finger at him. "It will just be two days, Scully. A nice break from the heat in DC, you said. We'll check out a few crop circles, gather some soil samples, take some statements and be out of here in no time. That was Friday morning, Mulder. This is Tuesday night. Tuesday night, Mulder, and now you're asking me to stay another two days until the neighbor comes back from his hunting trip to see if he can substantiate Mr. Franklin's story?"

"I know I said two days," Mulder answered. "But Scully, look at all the evidence we've found. This is one of the best examples of American crop circles to date. We can't just let it go without a complete investigation. Aren't you even the least bit curious about the radiation readings and trace metals we found in the soil samples? What about the burn marks on the treetops? Scully the burn pattern is a classic UFO landing indicator. We're on to something; I don't see how you can discount the evidence."

"Mulder, the radiation and trace metals in the soil will be explained away by the lab in DC, of that I have no doubt. As for those burn marks you're so excited about, the pattern may be classic, but the size is significantly smaller than any known burn pattern to date. For crying out loud, those marks could have been made by a marksman with a flame-thrower! This is over, Mulder. It's time to pack up and go home."

"What about the cow, Scully?"

Scully sighed. "I knew you'd bring up that damned cow, sooner or later. Cows die, Mulder. It's a sad fact of life, but they do. Mourn your loss and get over it."

"OK, but how many dead cows have one of these imbedded in their sinus cavities?" Mulder pulled a small bottle out from his jacket pocket and held it up. She stared at him, then motioned for him to bring it over. "I thought this might get your attention," he said.

She took the bottle from him, holding it up to the light. "Where did you get this," Scully demanded.

"The vet gave it to me. He thought it might be something we'd find interesting," Mulder replied.

Scully hung her head. She couldn't ignore the familiar object in her hand. "All right, Mulder. You've got your two days, but you owe me, big time."

Mulder smiled. "Anything Scully, anything you want, just ask."

Scully's eyes brightened. "Anything?"

Mulder nodded. "Name it."

She stood up, took a step and found herself inches away from him. "Actually Mulder, there is something you can do for me; something I've been wanting for days now." Scully put her hand on Mulder's chest and played with the buttons on his shirt.

Mulder gulped as his testicles returned to their rightful place on his body, with the sudden rush of blood to his nether regions. 'Steady boy, let her take this at her own pace,' he cautioned. "What exactly did you have in mind, Scully?" he asked, hoping that the higher pitch in his voice would go unnoticed.

Scully motioned for him to bend over. She placed her lips near his ear. "Listen closely, because I'm only going to say this one time," she purred.

Mulder listened intently to her demands, answering when appropriate, not believing what she was saying to him. When she pulled away, he stood there; mouth open, looking and feeling stunned by her words.

"Go on," she said, pushing him out the door. "I'll be waiting. Don't disappoint me, Mulder," she warned, as she closed the door behind him. Leaning against the door, Scully put her hand over her mouth to hold back the laughter welling up inside her.

Mulder stood in his room, replaying the last few minutes. One moment she was about to kill him, the next she was forgiving him, then this. He closed his eyes, felt her hand on his chest, felt her lips close to his ear, heard the words she'd whispered. "I want to spend the rest of the evening with you, Mulder, but we're going to need a few things first." "What?" he'd asked. "A roll of quarters, a bottle of laundry detergent and the address of the nearest laundromat," she'd replied, before pushing him out of the room and telling him not to disappoint her. "She wants to do laundry," he muttered, as he locked the door behind him.

Scully gathered up all the dirty clothes in Mulder's room, shoving them into his duffel bag. She added hers to the bag as well and waited for him to return. She started to feel a little guilty for playing Mulder like she had, but damn it, this time, he deserved it. 

Mulder bypassed his room, choosing to knock on Scully's door instead. When she opened the door, he held up the bottle of detergent. "Only brand they had at the mini-mart. I have quarters and directions in my pocket. The manager says the laundromat is a real mom and pop operation. Two washers, two dryers, but he assures me that they're the best machines Sears has to offer," he chuckled. When Scully didn't seem amused, he continued. "Ok, give me a minute to grab my things and we can get going."

Scully picked up the duffel bag. "Already taken care of, Mulder. Let's go."

10:43 PM  
Laundromat 

"Mulder? Do you have another white sock over there?

He searched through the small pile of whites in front of him. "No, maybe it's still in the dryer."

Scully looked inside the dryer. "No, not here."

Mulder sifted through everything in the whites, then through the darks. "Not here. Could it still be in the washing machine?"

Scully walked over to the washer, standing on tiptoe to look down into the barrel. "I don't see it."

Mulder came over and looked as well, running his hands along the insides of both machines to see if it had gotten stuck somewhere out of sight; he came up empty-handed. "Well Scully, looks like we've fallen prey to one of the oldest x-files known to twentieth century man; the case of the disappearing sock. Every year, literally thousands of unsuspecting people lose socks to a mysterious force in the universe. Many a washer and dryer have been dismantled, under the misguided notion, that there must be a place inside where these socks are hiding, only to have repairmen find nothing at all." Scully gave him the 'yeah-right' look. "No really, Scully. It happens every day. Haven't you ever lost a sock in the wash before?"

"No, Mulder, I haven't."

"You've led a charmed life, Scully."

"Mulder, this is one of the dumbest stories you've ever tried to feed me. You can't honestly expect me to believe that there is a great sock conspiracy in the universe," she said with a snicker.

"You have a better explanation?"

Scully laughed. "Pick anything. We probably folded the sock up with a shirt or something." She began unfolding the clothes, one by one, checking for the missing sock. When she was through, the sock was nowhere to be found. Mulder watched with barely contained amusement. "OK, so it's not folded in with the rest of the clothes."

"Are you sure you had both socks when we left the motel?" Mulder asked.

"Of course I had both socks. I made sure I had pairs before I put them in the bag," she answered.

"Somehow, I knew you'd say that," Mulder chuckled. "So, the sock definitely made it to the laundromat."

"And into the washing machine," Scully added.

"You check for pairs when you put them into the washing machine?" Mulder asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Yes," she answered. "I like to be sure I have everything before I start a load, is that a problem for you, Mulder?" Scully leaned back against the washing machine and glared at him.

"No, not at all," he snickered. "So, we've established that both socks were in the bag and entered this washing machine," he said, patting the machine they'd used for whites. "Did you happen to count the socks as they were being put into the dryer?"

"No, but I did check the washing machine for any strays before starting the dryer."

"So, since you didn't count the socks from the washing machine, we have no way of determining whether the sock disappeared from the washer, the dryer, or somewhere in between."

Scully rolled her eyes. "Somewhere in between, Mulder?"

"We have to explore all the possibilities," he answered.

"Oh, for Pete's sake." She turned around, put her hands on either side of the washing machine and pushed up. "Come on, lift," she grumbled.

"What are you doing, Scully?" Mulder asked.

"Trying to lift the top of this thing," she answered. Scully gave another hard push, then hit the top of the machine in frustration. Now it was Mulder's turn to give her the 'yeah right' look. "Wipe that stupid look off your face and help me," she growled. "The sock probably fell between the barrel and the outer casing. This should lift up so we can get inside and see for ourselves," she explained.

Mulder joined her and the two pushed until the top gave way. "I'm impressed, Scully," he said. "Doctor, federal agent, washing machine repairperson."

"I have many hidden talents, Mulder," Scully said with a smirk. "Now, look down in there and see if you see that sock."

Mulder leaned over the edge and peered into the machine. "I could use a flashlight."

Scully nodded and went out to the car to get one. "Here," she said, handing it to him. "See anything?"

"No. Oh wait, there is something in here," he said. He leaned over a little more, standing on tiptoe to reach the bit of fabric peeking out from the bottom of the machine. "Oh my God, Scully!" he exclaimed, keeping the item from her view. "I don't believe this."

"What, Mulder?" she asked, trying to get a glimpse of the item in his hand.

Mulder whirled around. "The sock…it mutated." He held up a dingy looking pair of boy's briefs, size three, and laughed at the expression on her face.

Scully frowned, at first, then allowed a small smile, followed by a giggle, to slip out. "Very funny, Mulder." She looked into the machine once more. "No sock?"

"Nope, just these," Mulder answered, as he tossed the underpants into the trash.

"Well then, it must be in the dryer," she concluded. "Come on, let's see if we can open it up."

"Do dryers have poptops, just like the washers," he asked.

"Not this one," she answered. "We're going to have to open it up from the back." She pulled it away from the wall and turned it around, while Mulder watched. "Mulder, make yourself useful and see if we have a Phillips screwdriver in the car."

"That's the one with the pointy end, right?" Mulder asked.

"Yes, Mulder, that's the one with the pointy end," she sighed.

Mulder returned a few minutes later, screwdriver in hand. "Can I help," he asked, as he handed it to her.

"No, I can manage," she answered. She quickly removed the screws from the backing and put it aside. "Hand me the flashlight." Scully took it from him and shined the light into the back of the dryer. She felt all around the places she couldn't see into and found nothing. "Damn it."

"Want me to look?" Mulder asked.

"Go ahead," she said, getting up and handing him the flashlight. "You're not going to find anything."

He sat down. "I found the underwear, didn't I?"

Scully rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Yes you did. What would I do without you?"

Mulder smiled and peered inside the dryer. He felt around, even lifting it up slightly to look underneath. "Well, you were right, Scully. There's nothing here." He reached for the backing and the screws. "Hand me the screwdriver and I'll put this back on."

Scully searched the laundromat once more, while Mulder replaced the backing. She snickered when it fell to the floor, followed by a quiet expletive from Mulder. "Need a hand, Mulder?"

"Almost got it, Scully."

She heard the unmistakable sound of a screw bouncing on the floor. Mulder's arm shot out from behind the dryer to grab the screw before it got too far away. "Are you sure you don't need any help?"

Mulder poked his head out from behind the dryer. "No Scully, I'm perfectly capable of operating a screwdriver."

"OK, Mulder. Holler if you need me."

Ten minutes later, Mulder emerged. "See, nothing to it," he announced. "Any luck finding the wayward sock?"

"No, I give up, Mulder. Let's just chalk it up to this mysterious sock conspiracy and call it a night."

Mulder's eyes opened wide. "You're going to accept my theory and close this case, just like that?" He grabbed her by both arms and looked into her eyes. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Dana Scully?"

Scully laughed. "Mulder, it's late, I'm tired, and I really don't care about the stupid sock anymore, so here it is…you were right, I was wrong, let's go back to the motel."

Mulder grinned and began putting their now clean clothes into his duffel bag. "Hey Scully, are you still mad at me for dragging you out here?"

"Yes," she answered, with a smile. "But I'll get over it."

Mulder closed the bag and lifted it off the table. Scully grabbed the detergent and they walked toward the door. "Scully?"

"Yes, Mulder?"

"Do you still want to spend the rest of the evening with me?"

"Of course I do."

Mulder's grin grew even wider and he put his arm around her. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"Well sure, I mean, we do have all this laundry to put away." She looked at him, straight-faced, for a full minute, before cracking a smile. 

Epilogue

In the dark recesses of her mind, Diana Fowley cackled as she fondled the newest sock for her collection. For the past year, ever since her untimely 'demise', she'd been trying to snag a sock from the collection of one Miss Dana Scully, only to be thwarted by Scully's anal-retentive, sock counting, ways. "Got you this time, bitch," she giggled hysterically.

"Would you look at this, Anna," Nurse Sharon Mullins said, pointing to Fowley's hand. "She's got another one."

"That makes, what, fifteen this week alone?" Anna asked.

"At least. I've lost count," Nurse Mullins answered. "Where do you think they're coming from?"

"I don't know," Anna replied. "Really creepy, if you ask me." She tried to take the sock from Fowley's gnarled hand, but Fowley screamed and held on for dear life.

"Let her keep the darn thing," Nurse Mullins said. "Anything to keep her quiet."

Anna backed away from Fowley, leaving her to giggle and fondle the sock. "She's really weird, you know that?"

"No kidding."

"Hey Sharon, you know all those socks that go missing from the laundry each year?"

"Yeah?"

"You think…" she said, pointing to Fowley.

Sharon stared at her, then reached out to touch her forehead. "You been in the meds cabinet, Anna?" she joked.

"It was just a thought," Anna said, closing the door behind her.

   [1]: mailto:frohike51@aol.com



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